Right and wrong
by dellums
Summary: 'And I know it's wrong to feel this way - isn't it? I mean... it goes against everything that I am, but it makes my life feel so complete. I just don't know anymore. I don't know anything.' Re-submitting because ff.n was PMSing and deleted it last time, sob. Spamano, T for touchy, religious stuff and swearing.


I grew up with my mom and my dad and my stupid younger brother somewhere in a dusty, old town in North Italy. I was a typical Catholic schoolboy during my childhood, if not a bit more sarcastic and short-tempered. We went to church every Sunday, and occasionally on Saturdays. I worked after school in Mom and Dad's generic Italian restaurant, pouring wine for lonely customers searching for some solace, or rolling out dough for my brother to turn into some God-sent pastry. My homework was always done on time, and my grades never dipped below a B+.

Feliciano - my little brother - and I shared the upstairs room in our shabby excuse of a house, which rested smack on top of the restaurant. The walls were slanted, the running water was always too hot or too fucking cold, the floral-printed curtains didn't match and the stove had caught fire more than once. Our room was the attic and the floors creaked.

Every night, Feliciano and I knelt on the splinter-coated ground, closing our eyes and dipping our heads, praying to some giant man in the sky. Usually we prayed just to please our parents and get it over with, or just out of habit. It was like a routing we did without thinking.

But sometimes we meant it. Only sometimes.

We said our good nights and retreated to bed, waking up bright and early the next morning to traipse the required mile through the cobble-stone streets to get to school.

My life was nice growing up. I kept Feli in line and out of trouble, helped my parents, and even sang along with the stupid hymns at church most of the time.

So... then why did I end up like this? If I had been raised so brilliantly by my hardcore Catholic parents, why did I end up so... so damn _gay_?

It was wrong, immoral, unholy, and I was going straight down to the fiery depths of Hell, I was sure. Ever since I had moved to America to study abroad, ever since I had enrolled in that fancy art school, ever since I had first seen that cheerful idiot and heard his annoying Spanish voice say "_¡hola!_", I had been damned.

I loved him and he loved me, even when I denied it. I tried to stop loving him. I tried to like girls. I really did. And every time I kissed Antonio, I knew Ma was having an aneurism in her grave.

She had once told Feli and I that being gay was a sin. We would go to Hell if we liked other boys, and that she'd rather us be in love with _a dog_ than another male. I think she scared Feliciano by telling him that. Honestly, she'd scared me a bit too.

I wished there was a way to just get all the gay out of me. Maybe one day, if I sneezed or coughed hard enough, the part of me that liked guys would just leave my soul and I'd be normal.

Normal... I'm not even sure if that word can ever apply to me again.

I want it so bad, to please my parents and society, but I want Antonio mare. It hurts to be away from him just as much as it hurts to be with him. I can't even face telling a therapist about how I feel; I'm afraid - yes, afraid - they'll be disgusted or throw Holy Water at me or try to burn me with a crucifix or something.

And then my stupid, emotion-betraying self would get defensive and I might have to go all mafioso on the stupid son of a bitch. And that would not be pretty.

Antonio doesn't even know how I feel. He's so oblivious and innocent. I doubt he even knows how big of a sin we're both committing. Though... is love really a sin?

And this is about when my mind starts running in circles and I can't separate right from wrong anymore. How can it be wrong to love somebody? When I feel so right sleeping next to Antonio, how can it be wrong? Being gay can't be a bad thing if it makes you happy and you love someone more than you ever have... And it's not like I love _all_ men; I'm not a fucking _whore_.

I ... love the person, not the gender.


End file.
